The Dark Side of the Moon
by Writer's Fingers
Summary: It was the night of the Astronomy tower, the death of a headmaster, and the beginning of a nightmare for Harry. After being mauled by Greyback, he must struggle with the symptoms of being a partial werewolf and the humiliation of being Voldemort's trophy.
1. Disregarding Orders

The Dark Side of the Moon

Fan fiction by **Kruz**

Started 7/28/05

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Some parts of the first chapter are rewrites of events from Mrs. Rowling's HBP.

If you have spare time, please take a chance reading my other HP stories

-**Coveting Blindly**, and

-**Whistling in the Dark**

(I apologize for how amazingly short this chapter is compared to what I normally write. I promise you that in no way do I foresee myself ever submitting something this short again. If you are interested in my excuse, look at my note at the end of this chapter. Thank you all for reading and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW!)

**Reviews** will be honored with my undying gratitude… aw c'mon, it's a fair prize.

Chapter 1:

"_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Harry disregarded the Death Eater he'd hit with his spell and leapt over the man's stunned form almost before he it the ground.

Terror was tearing his heart in two. Moments… just moments before his mind had followed Dumbledore out the Astronomy tower window and sailing down to a ground that seemed to only grow farther and farther away. But now what few of his wits were not overcome by his fear had soared back through the window and pushed him down the spiral staircase in a frantic chase to reach Snape and Malfoy. He couldn't let them get out of the castle, out of the grounds. He had to take the murderers down here and now.

He leapt the last 10 stairs of the staircase and was cast into a dusty corridor full of dueling witches and wizards and the stray spells that were rebounding off the walls like flies.

"It's over, time to go!"

Snape's voice rang in Harry's ears and he caught sight of the crow just as he and Malfoy turned the corner. He pushed himself after them but one of the figures clad in black Death Eater robes lunge his way and knock him to the ground. Greyback leaned over his pinned prey, his hair falling in Harry's face, his breath beating on Harry's neck. His jaw separated his teeth and Harry closed his eyes.

_"Petrificus Totalus!"_

Greyback buckled and fell limp on Harry who threw him off with some effort, springing to his feet and pointing his own wand ahead of him.

_"Impedimenta!"_ Harry yelled.

The lumpy Death Eater, Amycus, squealed before he slammed into the stone wall on the opposite side of the room. Harry didn't have time to answer Ginny as she questioned where he'd come from. He sprinted on, McGonagall and Tonks locked in battle with their own Death Eaters as he sped by.

His foot caught on something and the next minute and had fallen on Neville's legs. He quickly sputtered, "Neville, are you-?"

"M'all right," Neville muttered, "Harry … Snape 'n' Malfoy … ran past …"

"I know, I'm on it!" Harry said quickly, aiming a hex at the crazed Death Eater Tonks was attempting to take down. The man howled as Harry's hex hit him in the face and retreated through a doorway behind the lumpy brother and sister.

Before he knew it Harry was following bloody footsteps through the darkened halls and out into the chilled grounds, the Death Eaters who'd left moments before him down another doorway now trailing him, shooting spell after spell his way. He stumbled over one and returned the favor, delaying the two hunch-backed Death Eaters and running forward through pain he'd thought unimaginable toward Hagrid's hut which had now been set ablaze. Hagrid himself was dealing well with the Death Eaters that charged him and shouting about Fang still being in the house. He rushed by them, aiming his wand through his ragged steps and shouted, "_Stupefy!"_

"Run, Draco!"

His spell had missed and now he and Snape turned at each other, raising their wands like mirror images of each other and Harry shouted and unforgivable curse in the crow's way. Snape parried the curse, "_Cruc-!"_ Harry tried again but it was just as easily blocked.

"No Unforgivable Curses from you, Potter!" Snape spat back.

Harry was on fire inside, "_Incarc-!"_

Blocked.

_"Stupe-!"_

Blocked again.

"Now, come!" Snape shouted to someone over Harry's shoulder, "It is time to be gone, before the Ministry turns up-!"

_"Impedi-!"_

This time Harry's spell was not blocked, but instead interrupted ad his lungs tore into screams of agony and his body fell to the soft, wet grass. Every inch of his was writhing and spinning in pain. He would surely die; he would surely loose his mind.

"NO!" Snape roared. The pain subsided. "Have you forgotten out orders? Potter belongs to the Dark Lord – we are to leave him! Go! Go!"

Three Death Eaters ran by Harry as he staggered to his feet again in a blind rage. He raised his wand at Snape's blurry figure in the distance. He hated the man now more the ever. His hate for Snape was a raging animal growling in his throat and in his chest. He'd enjoy seeing the man dead as much as he'd enjoy seeing Voldemort die. He thrust his wand straight and held it as still as he could with all the force he could mutter.

_"Sectum-!"_

… And for a moment the world around him was nothing but a frozen 3-D portrait. Something had its arms wrapped around Harry's chest. Some held his elbows locked to his side, several somethings were driving smoothly into his neck like a small set of hot knives into butter. The spell died on his lips and his vision flickered in and out of focus several times in two short moments.

The one thing he could hear was a soft "NO!" that seemed like someone had shouted it from atop a high mountain and Harry was simply hearing the aftermath from the base. Hazy, undistinguished blurs were heading his way and his vision tilted and turned as his body hit the ground but he wondered if it really had for he did not feel the fall.

"You fool!" The distant whisper of a voice said, "You're orders-! The plan-!" A stronger sound, a crazed laughter, interrupted the words and the voice of reason sputtered, "Pick him up! Pick him up! Take him!"

His vision tilted several more and his senses rushed back to him with the sounds of a train about to pummel him into the ground. He felt himself slung over a black shoulder, inhumanly strong arms grip his legs as his arms dangled lifelessly in front of his eyes. The wind by his ears sounded like a roaring engine and he noticed the ground moving by the feet of whoever was grasping him. The roar of the train in his head grew louder, louder, until the sound hit him at full blast with the force of a hammer thrown down on the back of his skull and the hammer shattered his train into a million tiny pieces and now everything fell silent.

* * *

(This is the SHORTEST chapter I have EVER written and I PROMISE you there will never be another chapter this short again... or at least I don't foresee one... I wouldn't swear on my friends' lives or anything but still. My excuse is that I told myself I had to stop at this point and so I did while most of this chapter was rewriting a bit of Rowling's "Flight of the Prince" chapter and I didn't find that very exciting… in fact… I don't see why I did that at all. I suppose I just felt like it needed to be done to introduce how Harry was bitten properly. I am sorry for the shortness of this chapter but thank you for reading it none the less and please continue to follow me in other chapters.) - Kruz 


	2. Strong Backed and Proud

**The Dark Side of the Moon**

Fan fiction by Kruz

Started 7/28/05

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Some parts of the first chapter are rewrites of events from Mrs. Rowling's HBP.

If you have spare time, please take a chance reading my other HP stories

-**Coveting Blindly**, and

-**Whistling in the Dark**

Reviews will be honored with my undying gratitude… aw c'mon, it's a fair prize.

**

* * *

Chapter 2:**

The world spun in a dark, tangled blur of simple colors and indistinguishable shapes. Something was buzzing in his ear, stopping every few seconds for a slight pause before it continued. It was like an insect had lodged himself deep in his ear canal but Harry couldn't bring himself to twitch a finger, nonetheless lift a hand to swat the imaginary fly away. His eyes were so slightly opened that anybody looking at him would think they were still closed.

When his wits started spinning back to him as well he recognized the buzzing noise as voices and imagined his hearing simply hadn't woken up yet. He had a sickening feeling in his stomach. If he could move his legs he was sure they'd fall off from all the sprinting he'd down with no pause when he was last conscious. If they remained attached it would surely be agony moving them.

The voices were becoming more recognizable. One was yelling at the other and was heard much more often. A few times he imagined even if he could hear what was being said it wouldn't make sense to him. He pushed his led eyelids open farther and took in what seemed an out of focus ceiling. Suddenly his breath caught in his throat and a rush of feeling from his legs hit him like a train wreck. He inhaled quickly and turned himself to the side as the buzzing ceased suddenly and he felt like someone behind him was aiming daggers at the top of his head. He laid himself limp on his side as the floor beside his face shook with footsteps.

He could just see Hagrid shaking him to wake him up, McGonagall scolding him for going off by himself after Snape, but neither of them woke him.

Instead a hand as hard and stern as the ones that had held him so firmly before he dropped like a limp doll into unconsciousness now forced him back on his back and a body dropped down next to him on the floor. It leaned over him and its arms held his to the floor before the figure flip itself onto Harry's chest like a mad animal that had pinned him to the floor. With what he guessed where knees (at the moment Harry couldn't see very clearly) the figure replaced his grip and held Harry's arms down firmly while his hands lifted to collect something from an unknown source above him that wasn't close enough for Harry to make out a blurry depiction. The right arm of the figure reached out and placed two fingers above Harry's half open eyes and forced the lids to open fully. They dropped again as the hand moved higher and could be felt moving something against his head. Something was pulled in front of his eyes.

Suddenly the world was a much clearer place.

Fenrir Greyback, the masculine werewolf known throughout the continent for his ruthlessness and blood lust, had Harry pinned, once again, to the ground. The werewolf was as beastly looking as ever with darkened, matted grey hair and a whiskered chin. His slightly open mouth showed rather sharp teeth and his steely eyes pierced through Harry's and deep into his skull.

"Here."

Greyback thrust something that, Harry feared, resembled a large wad of raw meat as Harry's face and with renewed energy the boy wretched back in return.

"Stop!" Harry croaked out of a sore, extremely dry throat. His voice felt like a saw cutting at his insides when he spoke. He imagined it had to do with the sprint marathon he remembered running before he woke up here. A disgustingly filthy hand gripped his jaw and ripped it open, promptly stuffing a fist-sized piece of juicy pulp into his mouth with about as much manners as an enraged rhinoceros.

Harry wanted to gag… for a moment, and was then shocked by the taste. He'd always imagined raw meat would be disgusting and virtually inedible but he had the feeling if Ron were to show up right now and ask what he'd like for dinner he'd request a steak, completely uncooked and not marinated.

"Eat." Greyback ordered in a lethal tone. He reached behind him and sent his fist down heavily on Harry's stomach. Before Harry should cough the meat out the werewolf placed his hands forcefully over Harry's mouth and within second Harry was forced to take the chance of choking himself to death and swallowed the meat pulp. He gasped for painful breath after he felt a clear windpipe again and stared up.

Greyback was staring at him like he was a jigsaw puzzle that was troubling him greatly. Holding up another piece of sloppy pulp he tore off a piece the same size as Harry's choking hazard and started gnawing at it in his mouth before swallowing and sending a frightening lump down his throat that disappeared between his collar bones. Harry gawked and Greyback fitted himself with a smug grin of red-tinted teeth.

"'Ello Mr. Po'er," Greyback said again, measuring out another stomach full of meat with his teeth. Pinkish juice tricked down his chin and dripped onto Harry's school robes.

Harry stared back, occasionally blinking, and looking disgusted and horrified by the maniac that was still crushing his chest. He was relieved when Greyback flipped himself over to Harry's side and stood up, brushing his dark Death Eater robes flat against him.

Immediately Harry rolled over and got to his feet. He turned towards Greyback but only had a good look at him for a few moments before his vision tilted left, then right, then began spinning between the two and Harry could feel his feet loosen, then tighten, then loosen with motion. Greyback's harsh laugh filled his ears before he was thrust roughly against the wall and held there until it was obvious his head wasn't spinning anymore.

"A bit tipsy, aren't we Potter?" The werewolf sneered at his neck.

Harry felt rather helpless at the moments. It would be stupid to try and overpower Greyback. The man (if you could call him that) was 60 muscle while Harry was the skinny, weak boy he'd always been. He was getting nervous. Greyback was a werewolf after all, and an insane one at that. What if he attacked, even if the full moon wasn't out? What would happen if Harry were bitten, or scratched? He'd always liked Lupin but he didn't want to have the same 'furry little problem'.

Greyback's grip was jerked away with the rest of him as he sailed across the room and into the wall opposite his prey. Harry stared quickly over at the extended arm and wand of a tall, crow-like man with greasy hair and-.

He couldn't stop it. It was an impulsion like Harry had never experienced before. Flames erupted in his chest and he had the sudden burning desire to rip Snape's arm off and gnaw on it. His rash movements soon had Snape on the ground, caught unexpected, with Harry pounced over him like Greyback had recently done to the said boy. Before he could figure out what his hands were going to do to Snape, Greyback's strong hands yanked him off the black clad man and wrapped the werewolf's arms around the boy, leaning back, and lifting Harry slightly off the ground so his ferociously swinging foot couldn't land in its destined position on Snape's face.

With his hair in disorder and his face whiter then usual, Snape attempted to compose himself again.

"Told you he'd be mad," Greyback laughed but whether the laugh was because of Snape's state or how Harry was still struggling to make some part of him crack down on the crow like man it wasn't sure.

Snape looked up at Harry's wild emerald eyes while talking to Greyback, "He was not nearly as … wild when you had him pinned."

"And he wouldn't be still, hadn't he seen you," Greyback stated with a snort as he threw Harry down to the left side of him. "I'm sure."

"Very reassuring," Snape sneered, "The point was that you are not to damage him… more then you already have."

"Damaged?" Greyback roared with laughter, "Rubbish! Improved is more like it. Even a half-juiced piece of meat is better then a wizard."

Snape glowered and turned, robes billowing behind him, towards a door Harry now noticed set on the wall in front of him. A moment later the door opened, then slammed shut behind the crow like figure with a noise that rumbled through Harry's ears for a few lingering moments.

"He'll be off to fetch the Dark Lord, then," Greyback stated, Harry guessed to him, while crossing his arms. His steely eyes looked down at Harry who was, at the moment, sitting on the floor with one arm behind him propping him up while the other ran through his empty pockets. "You didn't think we'd forget your stick, did ya?"

Harry glared up at the beastly man who erupted into laughter again and turned around; walking back to the spot Harry'd first been lying at. Harry stood up and brushed down his robes.

"How does it feel where I bit ya?"

Harry stared up at the question, his eyes still narrowed threateningly. "You didn't bite me, Snape stopped you."

"Not just now," Greyback waved a hand to toss off the answer, "Earlier. At Hogwarts. I doubt you'd remember. Just tell me how your neck is."

Harry processed the words slowly. "You…"

"Bit ya," The werewolf turned back to Harry with a smirk, "Right at the base o' your neck. It's a good spot, nice and raw. I should say you're older then I normally keep 'em at but how could I resist a trophy like you, Mr. Chosen One?"

Harry was still working on processing the first statement.

"Though," Greyback grumbled with a hard expression, "I never get to keep anything anymore, what with the Dark Lord and all…"

Harry wasn't listening. He'd been bitten? That couldn't be right… he didn't feel wolfish… besides, Greyback hadn't been transformed. Even if he had been attacked he wouldn't be a werewolf… then again he'd never heard of anyone being attacked when the werewolf wasn't transformed. There was nothing wrong with him.

"You're lying," Harry said, staring at his hands.

"What?" asked Greyback.

Harry barked at him, "You're lying, there's no way. You weren't transformed."

The werewolf began to chuckle. "Stupid boy."

"Stupid? You don't even know the anatomy of your own bite!"

"And you don't know," snarled Greyback, walking towards Harry so the teenager took a few steps back, "Not to mess with Fenrir Greyback."

Harry was grabbed roughly by the throat and felt himself being thrown back and hit the door with a loud BANG, a squeak from the door's hinges, and a cracking noise from the wood. Before he could compose himself the door was opened and he fell back against the floor again, looking up at two towering black figures, one even more so then the other with crimson eyes blazing in front of him. He saw staring at Greyback. Then, slowly, his crimson orbs followed the floor to where Harry was.

"Voldemort," Harry said in almost a whisper, feeling his voice run dry on his tongue.

"Harry," Voldemort acknowledged with a thin, cold grin running across his face.

"I told you not to touch him," Snape hissed at Greyback, staring at the red finger marks around Harry's neck. Greyback simply shrugged in response and moved to lean on the walls of the room. Harry quickly remembered where he was and struggled to his feet as quickly as possible. Voldemort waited patiently for him to be situated again, grinning all the while with eyes thinned by knowing. For a few moments he and Harry shared a silent stare while Voldemort looked him up and down, as if seeing some drastic change in him Harry didn't know of. Then, he chuckle quietly at him and Harry narrowed his eyes as far as they could go while being able to see and be seen.

"Aren't you going to invite me in, Harry?" Voldemort cooed, "Dumbledore would like you to show manners."

Harry's glare faltered and he stared up with a surprised remembrance of those same words being spoken two years ago in a graveyard full of Death Eaters… but this time Dumbledore wasn't simply back at Hogwarts, or anywhere else for that matter… Dumbledore was dead and he still didn't know who else was dead now too.

At Harry's blank remembrance Voldemort laughed again and helped himself into the room with his crow following behind him. Snape didn't spare Harry a glance and Harry was glad for if he had he would have been tackled again.

At the center of the room the Dark Lord turned to stare at Harry as the Boy Who Lived moved to stand in front of him, strong backed and proud, like Voldemort had mentioned his father was on that graveyard visit two years ago.

* * *

Uh… I won't comment on the length anymore. -- I always break promises if I make them. It's better to keep myself limitless and free!

Please review. Thank you to everyone who did! XX you guys must really like this story, huh? Wow…

My undying thanks,

-Kruz


	3. Two Who Could Care Less

The Dark Side of the Moon

Fan fiction by Kruz

Started 7/28/05

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Some parts of the first chapter are rewrites of events from Mrs. Rowling's HBP.

Sorry for the delay everyone.

8th grade is beating me into the floor with a 200 lbs. mallet.

My school's standards are pretty high. You have to score 95 or higher to get an A and I have a textbook for every class but Gym. I even have a textbook for Drama. Physical Science, English 8, American History, Drama, German 1, Algebra 1- and I have to bring at least three home with me every day. Tonight I have Algebra, German, English, and Science.

So that's my excuse for taking forever to update anything. It's close to the same one I put on my recently added 8th chapter of Coveting Blindly (another HP story) and when I get another chapter of Whistling in the Dark up (a third HP story) I'll give this same speech.

Oh yah, if you get time, read one or both of those stories.

Thank you for all your reviews and keep them coming! Tell me what you like about the story. And enjoy chapter 3.

* * *

Chapter 3:

"There's no need for bravado, Harry. This is a light-hearted… companionable setting," the Dark Lord cooed through a smirk.

"Oh yah! I'll say!" Greyback howled in laughter and forced Snape to knock him rudely by the back of the head.

Harry stared rapidly between the three dangerous figures with a sudden realization that his situation was not good at all. In fact, these were probably the worst circumstances he could possibly be in at the moment. Subconsciously his hand twitched for a wand… or possibly for the opportunity to get a grip on Snape's neck.

His emerald eyes stopped on the Dark Lord as he produced some kind of hissing laughter that was fairly quiet but vibrated back on the walls well. With a sudden rush of memory Harry recalled Lord Voldemort being a very skilled legimens. (Did I spell that right? Don't think I did but don't have my books with me.)

Greyback looked between Harry and Voldemort and snorted with a frown, not understanding the point of his Master's laughter. The werewolf straightened his back and put a hand on the side of his neck, cracking it back into place with a distractingly loud sound, and shook his head like a wet dog.

"I assume you recall some rather surprising events happening at your school not too long ago, Harry," Voldemort said with a twisted grin.

Harry tried to hide the wide look in his eyes and gulped hard. His mind shot the words "Dumbledore's dead" through his brain a few dozen times before quieting itself, as if shouting answers to the silent mind probing the Dark Lord may have been ready to do.

"You are currently in the manor of the late Mr. Thomas Riddle," Voldemort went on in a bleak voice, "and I dare say I know of no one other then my followers that could find this place without coming back from the dead."

A rush of blood in the young mister Potter made his snarl up at the dark Lord with burning hatred blazing his green eyes. He couldn't let himself forget that Voldemort was as responsible for Dumbledore's death as Snape was. Logical thinking made that perfectly clear. Dumbledore, and yet this "man", if you were so bold as to use that word, was responsible for many more murders then just that one.

"I'm already up!"

Harry was as surprised as anyone else in the room by the words he barked out but his didn't stop there. "I'm already up so stop playing around!" He snarled, "Kill me."

The Dark Lord stared and blinked and Harry found it surprising that he actually had eyelids. He lacked so many other facial parts, after all. "You want to see Dumbledore again that badly, Harry?"

Harry turned his head and cursed at the innocent softness lying to him in that sentence.

"You think you're gonna be killed, boy?" Greyback said with a grunt, "Why'd I haul ya here just to toss yer corpse out again?"

"So you could see me die!" Harry barked at Voldemort as if the Dark Lord had asked the question instead of the werewolf standing a few yards to the left.

The Dark Lord grinned again, "Your temper and mouth have become much fiercer then they were in previous encounters, Mr. Potter." Harry glared at the tall, thin figure of something someone might consider a man as he crossed his bony-thin arms and lowered his face so more darkness covered his snake-like features. "But maybe that just comes with the bite."

Harry lunged forward and was knocked back by strong, burly werewolf hands. Greyback grabbed one of his arms as he fell back towards the floor and redirected his trip to Voldemort's feet where he heard Snape's voice and felt his arms and legs lock in their position on the floor. Someone's long, clod fingers touched the top of his head and the teenaged wizard wretched as much of himself as he could away from the Dark Lord, shaking his head like a dog in a subconscious imitation of Greyback.

"What're you doing?" Harry barked at the snake-of-a-man fiercely.

"Now, now, Harry," Voldemort said in a venomous tone as he put his hand down on the boy's head and clasped some of Harry's black hair in his fist so the teenager couldn't rip away from him, at least not without a price. Harry tried to anyway. "I am being kind enough to spare your life. I expect a bit more gratitude from you."

"Never," Harry snapped and Greyback slammed a booted foot down on his back, making his shoulder blades give in.

"E'vyone's got a breaking point, my little pupling," Greyback cackled in a sing-song voice. Snape snorted disapprovingly. "Your Lord can be quite persuasive, as you'll find out in a bit," Greyback smirked and crossed his muscular arms, "Unless you want the easy way out and just be a good lil' pup."

"I choose neither," Harry hissed so quietly he wasn't sure if anyone but Voldemort would have heard him. The Dark Lord's crimson eyes stared down at him with an expressionless face to match it and for a moment things were quiet as Voldemort stared, Harry avoided the red eyes, and Greyback licked his chomps and picked at his teeth.

"So," Harry finally started, without being able to stop himself, "you're just going to mess with me for no purpose."

"I don't do anything without a purpose, Mr. Potter," Voldemort said in a dangerous tone. "In light of certain new revolutions in your way of life I've given you the benefit of the doubt in all this prophesy business," the Dark Lord continued on, "and am sparing your life until it is proven that things must turn out otherwise. I'm a very logical and considerate man, Harry, and with Dumbledore not here to coach you on and you golden blood having been soiled I find no reason why I shouldn't give you a second chance."

"Second chances are for people that want them," Harry growled and Greyback stomped on his back again.

"That's enough Fenrir," Voldemort hissed calmly and spread a thin smile at Harry. "I also believe in giving minds a second chance, Harry," He added with a slight snicker, "which is a lucky break for you because that is, I think, what's holding you back."

"Rise and shine, pup," Greyback laughed, hauling Harry up by the neck as Snape's wand flicked again and the teenager regained motion of his arms and legs. Harry immediately started kicking and flailing again but it was of no use. Fenrir Greyback was far too strong for him and just accompanied Voldemort in laughing at him as he was dragged, mostly by the neck, toward and through the door and into a nearly pitch black hall.

Snape and the Dark Lord had started talking a few moments before the door was closed in his face and Harry was cut off from the sounds without catching a word from either of the snakes. His worst dreams were coming true. No, this was worse. Much worse. Death would have been greatly preferred to this. He would have been able to see Sirius, Harry reminded himself in agony, and his mother and father, and the newly deceased Dumbledore.

Harry hung his head and hardly noticed the bounding pain as Greyback dragged him down uneven, rickety steps. At the bottom of which, the werewolf dropped him and turned to face the teenager that was so engrossed in his agonizing thoughts that he didn't notice the werewolf's eyes on him.

Greyback grabbed his shoulder and hoisted him up again and turned the teenager toward him, snarling. "Look here boy," Greyback growled in a low voice, "I can't bite you again, I've got orders, but either way nobody's gonna care if your not a full werewolf if the likes of you ever get out of here."

Harry turned his green eyes on the man with a glare.

The werewolf grunted, "You wouldn't be nobody's "chosen one" anymore, that's for sure. Wizards don't like werewolves, half or whole. Voldemort couldn't care less and neither could I."

To be perfectly honest, Harry was surprised at what Greyback said, and the fact that he used the Dark Lord's name, especially without "Lord" in front of it. Greyback supported Voldemort because of the benefits for himself and his "people", Harry remembered, so maybe his loyalty to the Dark order didn't run all that deep. But what he said shot Harry like an arrow. His stomach withered up and he cursed himself because he was certain it was visible. He knew it was close, that moment where it would suddenly hit him that he wasn't the same Harry Potter anymore, but he wouldn't have it now. It would wait until he was alone where it would all sink in and be painful rather then embarrassing.

"If I were you," Greyback interrupted, "I'd reconsider my loyalties. You ever face the wizarding world, them knowing you were a werewolf, and you'd understand what a good deal the Dark Lord's giving you." The older werewolf put a strong hand on Harry's back and pushed him ahead of him down the dark hall.

Harry could barely feel his legs. Great, he thought, the feeling was starting long before it should have with Greyback's added words. It was ironic to Harry that the most human words he'd heard in at least twenty four hours came from a werewolf that bit wizards and killed people just for the heck of it. Greyback was very different now, just in the way he moved or the sound of his voice, as opposed to when Harry had seen him in the doorway of the astronomy tower. But that had been on the Hogwarts grounds and the school that was like home to him seemed worlds away now.

Greyback yanked back on his shoulder after a short while of walking and Harry almost feel back. Well, rather, he DID fall back but Greyback caught him and threw him back up quickly and emotionlessly. The werewolf grabbed the knob of a door on Harry's left and swung it open, pushing Harry's back so he stumbled inside. Harry tripped over his feet, as this room was even darker then the hall and Greyback had closed the door after entering himself. Several candles lit in a wooden chandelier that hung above them from the ceiling and looked like it might fall off any second. Looking over his shoulder Harry was surprised to see his wand in Greyback's hand.

It wasn't so much because his wand was so close that Harry was surprised, but more because he didn't think Greyback even knew how to use magic. After all, the man was prejudice against wizards. On the other hand Greyback didn't seem to enjoy it all that much himself.

"Filthy magic," he mumbled several times as he wiped away dust from the chandelier that had fallen on him as the candles lit. "I'd get comfortable if I were you," he mumbled at Harry, who briefly wondered why but then realized that Voldemort wasn't likely to give him a great amount of freedom at this point and being able to move freely would be asking a lot of the snake lord.

Harry walked stiffly over to the farthest corner and sat down there with his legs propped up in front of him and stared at Greyback until his own wand was raised to his forehead.

"Perificus Totalus," Greyback murmured unhappily and for the third time that year Harry felt all contact between his will and his limbs fail him. Greyback tossed his wand carelessly into the corner of the room and opened the door. "Sweet dreams, Pupling," he sang sarcastically and locked the door behind him.

Almost as soon as he was alone something hot ran down from his eyes, and then another from the other eye, and Harry was ready to kill himself before Voldemort had a second chance. He would have buried his face in his arms and curled up into a ball if he had any control over himself but once again he didn't. His whole life seemed like a game of ball where his life, the ball, were passed on into the possession of the different players: The Dursleys, Dumbledore, Voldemort. No matter how many tossed went by he was never the one in control and this one was the worst toss of all. He was through, he told himself, he just didn't want to play anymore.

* * *

Sorry, short chapter for such a long wait. I'll try to make the next one about three times faster. Don't forget to review.

-Kruz


	4. Fellowship

_"Let it be known that there appears to be much power in the plees of whiny fans which can even make a lazy author such as myself get to work on stopping the commotion."_

_-Me_

Oh, my silly little DSM (Dark Side of the Moon)fans…how much you amuse me.

I admit… I don't like this story…I don't know why, it's probably because I HAVE NO IDEA WHERE IT IS GOING! Which annoys me but after the 100th or so review asking me for "more" and to "update now or else"… I decided it was in the best interests of my health for me to obey and write something.

I'm sorry that this chapter may be fairly short. I still need to think of where this is going. For right now, a little something to hold you all over while I try to decide what to turn this into.

I have a lot of people giving me great reviews on this story. I want to please as many people as possible with it, so while so of you want Harry/Voldemort or Harry/Greyback, some of you don't, and while some of you want a full werewolf harry, some of you don't, and while some of you want a gloomy angsty ending, some of you want a happy one with pretty flowers and Harry having babies with a GIRL… and some of you may want Draco to come do the electric slide… I know I do, but I have a feeling not many other people want me to ruin the angst of the story so far.

Anyways, one more thinh. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR REVIEWS.

**I WOULD NOT HAVE CONTINUED TO WRITE THIS STORY WITHOUT YOUR REVIEWS!**

IF YOU WANT MORE, GIVE ME NICE LONG JUICY REVIEWS WITH THE PARTS YOU LIKED.

**IMPORTANT!**

**If you have suggestions for the story, EMAIL THEM TO ME at: sinisterplus yahoo . com (without spaces)**

CHAPTER 4: (...i think)

Harry groaned and forced his eyes open through the throbbing headache that painfully reminded him of where he was… Again all the memories came back to him, now with new ones waiting their turn to gnaw at his grief. Voldemort's words….Snape's face…. Greyback's almost concerned attitude toward him.

Stiffly moving his limbs he realized he wasn't hexed. Perhaps today would be slightly less tormenting then the last. Ahead of him he saw a cracked and chipped plate with more fleshy pink meat on it. He cringed as his stomach eagerly growled for the meat. Who knew where it came from… what animal… or maybe not an animal at all? Could Voldemort be that sick? 'Yes,' he decided, "…but probably not this early in the game. Why, the dark lord could probably get a few more minutes of entertainment out of his trying to mangle Snape before-"

There was a noise outside the door, like a hammer being smashed against the unstable, decaying floor. It could only be Greyback's boots. With another hammering step another noise came to Harry's ears, like the werewolf was trying to chew his way through the handle. The shadows of his feet seeped through to Harry's side of the doorway, obviously illuminated by some kind of dim candle from the hallway.

As one foot let the ground the door swung open, leaving the booted foot that had kicked it in its wake. Harry looked up as the werewolf snarled and tossed the rusty doorknob to the side. Harry cocked a brow at his curiously. The questions of 'why was he untied?' and 'what was in store today?' ringing in his head.

The werewolf opened his sharp-toothed mouth but was shoved aside roughly as a high-pitched "Where is the little mongrel?" sounded with an excited tone.

With an "OOF!" Greyback was shoved face-first into the wall, his hands twitching and his nose beginning to bleed.

At the sight of Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry tried to sink enough into the shadows that the crazed woman couldn't see him. It was to no purpose though. Satan had long ago given Bella the ability to see all that ever moved. As the woman, to the teenager's surprise, rushed over and embraced him Harry was sure he felt the skin she touched beginning to burst and fester. Perhaps, though, it was just his nerves.

With a sick grin Bellatrix pulled away and stood again.

Greyback pulled himself off the wall, holding his bleeding nose.

"Congratulations ickle Potter-kins," the woman tittered, "I myself was so surprised to hear-."

"What?" Harry asked, repulsed by her earlier gesture.

"He surely is a very merciful lord is he not? Oh, yes, quite the delicious surprise. You should feel quite honored."

Harry cast a glance to Greyback for an answer, but he was still clutching his face and cursing. Rudolphus Lestrange leaned into the doorway, "really Bella, you're not to be talking with it."

Bellatrix yammered on about some sort of "honor" and how "fortunate" he was… but there was something cynical in her look. There was a glint in the back of her sinister eyes that screamed 'wait until you hear it. What's in store for you next? Oh the torture." It was surprising all the bad feelings Harry got from her face. She seemed almost dead, with an unhealthy color and appearance to her face. He could almost see Voldemort's snake like optics glittering in her own eyes. Inside his head he found himself unfolding an entire conversation, mimicking that she was spewing out now, that spoke excitedly of some kind of torture and unbearable thought.

"Bellatrix!"

The woman turned to her husband with a frown that could sink ships and "hmph"ed. She grinned back at Harry, "Oh, well you'll see for yourself, won't you? Master's little puppy dog." She cackled, "How cute."

The death eater's complaints turned back to her husband as she glided out of the room and shut the door with Greyback in the room with Harry. Her high, terrifying voice stood with Harry for a few more minutes before he looked up at Greyback, "…what's waiting for me today?" He asked, as if there was some schedule of torture events lined up for him.

The werewolf sniffed and rubbed the blood off his nose, looking at Harry with an emotionless expression. "Voldemort wants to see ya."

"Why? What's going to happen?" Harry stood up, his feet firmly and defiantly placed on the ground.

Greyback snorted, "Can't say for sure. Maybe you'll be marked."

Harry's body went numb for a moment, "…the…..the dark mark?"

"Only if yer lucky," Greyback said, shrugging, "and who can say that? Rather lucky you're still alive today…. Then again, unlucky you're here in the first place. But the truth doesn't count for nothing here, just what Voldemort says. I shouldn't be telling you any of this anyways."

Harry wasn't listening anymore. "….the dark mark…." He thought. He felt like being sick.

"Best start thinking 'bout how much you value yer life as opposed to yer pride." With a huff Greyback crossed his arms, "Now c'mon. I need to take you out a minute."

"…does this have to do with Voldemort?" Harry asked, tensing. He wouldn't go to Voldemort again without a fight.

A sly grin crossed Greyback's face, "…naw," he said simply and held a finger up to his fanged mouth, "just a chat amongst fellows. But be quiet about it, Volders doesn't much care for fellowship."

* * *

(I know it was short, sorry, but better then nothing eh?)

-Kruz


	5. Glimpse

**The Dark Side of the Moon**

By: RADEX (previously: Kruz)

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**CHAPTER 4:** _GLIMPSE

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_

The Hospital wing was the only busy part of the castle these past days. The trend seemed to be that every time Hermione walked into the wing, she saw half a dozen or more people crowded around one bed: Bill's.

When she needed to find Ron, Hermione came here first. The majority of the Weasley family could be found here at, basically, any hour of the day. Today as she walked in, Ron accompanied his sister, mother, father, and older brother Percy at Bill's bedside. Though he'd been racked with pain the last few days, and surely still was, Bill sat up against the pillow against his back, speaking as best he could through the layers of bandages smothering his face. Hermione had yet to see exactly to what extent his face was mutilated, and for the moment she had no desire what so ever to brave that experience.

As she approached the bed, Ron's head turned towards her, looking gloomier then ever. "Morning," he said in a bland tone to her.

Hermione nodded slightly, then looked at the bed and took another step closer to Ron. Kneeling by his chair and whispering as to not be overheard by the other visitors, she asked, "How is your brother doing?"

"Well enough to be sarcastic and express concerns about getting out of shape if he doesn't take a jog soon," Ron replied with a lack of the humor Bill was trying to force upon the family.

"Should we talk in the hall?" Hermione inquired.

With a nod and an eye and head gesture, Ron stood. Together, the two friends walked to the doors and out into the hall… if you could still use such a loose term as "Friends" anymore. Hermione had enough to worry about recently to take her mind off her and Ron's relationship, but she recalled the awkward, and yet somewhat satisfying, feeling that they both finally knew where they stood in terms with each other. She couldn't say she wasn't relieved. So Ron felt the same-… Well, as said, she had much more to think about.

With the door closed behind them, the two walked on further, and climbed up a short flight of stairs to the next story up. Ron held the door of a vacant classroom open for her and inside they went, silent, both anticipating the subjects at hand.

Hermione, sitting herself sideways at one of the desk's chairs, started with the subject mildly. "He seems better then I'd have though… Bill, that is. I mean, I was worried how he'd react."

"He's not near as confident in himself as he makes others believe," Ron said, sitting on the unused desk when a professor would have been seated had this classroom been in the use of one. "Never has been… now it's worse for him. I mean with Fleur-"

"They ARE still going to have the wedding, aren't they?" Hermione asked, face painted with concern.

"Yes, yes, you'll still get to wear your pretty little dress, don't worry," Ron said, tone snippy. He eyed the ground and anticipated her response, but looked up a few moments later when she gave none. Hermione sat there, collected, eyeing him like she were waiting patiently for him to blurt something else out. "…that was uncalled for," he admitted a moment after.

Hermione nodded, "Yes it was. I know you well enough to understand why you slipped into saying it, though." For a moment there was silence between the two, then the female Gryffindor sighed lightly and switched the way her legs were crossed, "…everyone's on edge. As they should be, so much had changed, so much has gone wrong."

"Dumbledore's not here to fix it," Ron added, nodding in affirmation.

"Or Harry…"

Ron winced as if she had wounded him, and then continued a quiet stare at the floor. Harry had been missing a few days now. But it wasn't very likely that he coincidentally got lost during the Death Eater attack on Hogwarts. No, they could all dare to assume what had happened. Harry would be lucky if he was still alive, but who knew? No one could think of anyway to contact him. They didn't know where he was, if he was still alive, or any way to get past barriers the Death Eaters may possibly have on communication efforts with their stronghold.

For right now, they could think of nothing.

Hermione, noting the affect her statement had had, stood silently and walked close enough to sit next to Ron on the desk and lay a gentle hand on his shoulder in comfort, "…I'm sorry to bring it up, Ron."

The red-haired boy shook his head, "Everyone's been trying not to, but that doesn't change the fact that, mentioned or not, Harry's missing, Dumbledore's dead, and Bill… well, you would worry too if you were marrying Fleur. He's scared to death, Bill is. She can assure him she doesn't care for his looks all she wants, who wouldn't worry? She's a china doll and now… thanks to that werewolf-"

"Ron, I don't much like Fleur in the first place… but I know a girl's heart. Marriage is a big thing, and no girl wants to give away a part of her independence for someone she doesn't truly care about." Hermione assured with a soft tone.

"Well, Fleur's not any normal girl," Ron mumbled, "She's nice, and pretty, but-."

Hermione squeezed his shoulder slightly, "I'm sure it will be alright Ron." She scooted slightly closer to him on the desk, letting go of his shoulders and clasping her hands on her lap, looking at him as he took his eyes from the floor a moment to look up at her. After a moment, Ron let out a slight smile.

"…Maybe you're right, about it working out, for them at least. But that's the least of our problems right now." Ron held a hand up and rubbed his face, then the back of his neck, and looked past Hermione again, to the adjacent window. A cloudy day lurked outside, "…Poor Harry."

"Poor Harry," Hermione repeated with a slight nod, and looked to the window herself. Above the forest, and around the grounds black birds of prey spiraled up through the grey clouds, cawing in shrill waves. The air outside was colder then summer should have been. Now, even Harry's blind assurance was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Harry followed the back of the werewolf in front of him until these directions led them through a door and into something Harry hadn't expected: fresh air.

His first reaction was a squeaky kind of gasp. The feel of the cold night's breeze in his throat was a change. A Welcome one, but Harry had grown to hold resentment for change in his heart. Every year of him life, from when he was 11 to present day, a change had occurred, and never had it blatantly been for the betterment of himself or his friends.

Other then the air, dark trees, a blue-black sky, and hazy clouds that reflected the glow of the stars greeted him outside. It seemed to him as if the night had put on a special show, showing all its features off to him on this rare occasion that he would be let outside. Then again, after a moment of thought, Harry realized such bodies as the stars and night sky weren't at all a rarity in normal life… just in life as Voldemort's "puppy dog".

"Forgotten what it feels like already?" Greyback's rough voice asked, a deep chuckle following after. Harry frowned at the sound as the werewolf turned to him. "You won't last much longer without turning to mush, will you Potter?"

Harry longer to retort questions, such as why he was brought out here, back to the beast of a man he'd grown to hate like one hates an unwelcome relative, but he didn't want to be pushed back inside yet. No, not quite yet. He'd hold his tongue for a few more breaths.

Unfortunately, the werewolf who'd been leading him proved to be as impatient as he was rude, unpleasant, and filthy. His rough hand grabbed Harry's forearm and leisurely dragged the thin teenager along behind him, moving farther from the manor. "Can't let the Dark Lord's inflated head get sight of you outside, now can we?" He reminded Harry, who put the comment away as another question.

Greyback dragged him along until he found a nice enough clearing in the wooded area perhaps half a mile from the manor. There, he dropped Harry to the ground and chuckled as his own brutality, which he apparently thought amusing, and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

Harry, squirming slightly at being dropped to the floor, scrambled to stand and frown at the wolf. HE said nothing, but moved to stand by a tree, leaning against it, knowing if he tried to run the werewolf would catch him a moment's breath. He being unarmed and not knowing which way salvation lied in, escape wasn't a very prominent option right now.

Greyback leaned against his own tree and scoffed at Harry, "A'ight, I see you're brimming with questions and concerns. Go ahead if you'd like. Spill your complaints and thoughts. Perhaps it'll help you grow a spine and start acting like you're made of meat again."

"You're encouraging me to be more independent?" Harry asked, looking at the werewolf as though he'd asked him to stand on his head and do the cha-cha-slide.

The werewolf shrugged, "I'm not a death eater."

"You aren't?"

A low growl came from the rugged man's throat, "NO. I'm a concerned delegate of my peoples, working for the betterment of those I serve… besides that, YES the Dark Lord does supply a good steak dinner every night and YES the black cloak does make me look slimming."

"This isn't a joke," Harry replied in a growl of his own.

"Not unless you want it to be, Potter," The werewolf replied in the most "normal" sounding voice Harry had yet heard from Greyback. "If I were a death eater, a pompous lackie of that egotist, if you will, and given the circumstances, I would looove to rub your nose in the fact until eventually you're slowly driven insane. Since I'm not, I don't really care what the Dark Lord's opinion on matters are, as long as I keep my part of our bargain and he keeps him. Now surely there's something else you want to argue with me about."

"Why did you take me out here?" Harry blurted.

Greyback grinned, "To bond."

"I'm being serious!"

"As am I. That's what fellowship means, right?"

Harry shook his head, irritated, "Don't you care that you're breaking one of Voldemort's rules? Don't you know he'll kill you if he thinks you've posed even the slightest chance I would escape?"

"Neither I, nor Voldemort, really believe you WANT to leave, Harry," Greyback said as if talking to a small child. When he spoke in such a tone, his rough accent and brutish behavior seemed to fade. Or perhaps it was just Harry getting so used to his nature it wasn't sticking out anymore.

The comment took Harry aback. Not want to leave? "Of course I want to. To go home, or back to Hogwarts," Now Harry was the one speaking condescendingly.

"Oh let's not yap about that puppling, you won't be able to speak sensibly about it until you come to terms with yourself." Greyback said, plowing on before Harry could get out another complaint. "Are you hungry?"

"I'll never-…what!?" Harry shook his head, "If you're going to take me outside, joke with me about "Fellowship" and rub my face in this mess by keeping me only a mile away from feedom, you'd best expect me to retaliate!"

Greyback laughed harshly, "It's interesting how, even as some kind of werewolf-wizard-half-bred mixture you still sound so posh, so uppity-"

"Shut up!"

"Whoops, there it goes," Greyback grinned, sharp teeth showing out against his lips, darkened in tone by nightfall. "I thought you'd benefit from a chance to yell at me, and get a little fresh air and exercise, but expect me to answer your questions just as I would inside, I.E., cackling at you and reminding you that you're a child."

Harry didn't grace Greyback with a response, and for a moment the werewolf actually did seem to loose amusement and frown slightly. "This is a game for you. You were bored and didn't have anything better to do but to torment me more," Harry whispered in a dark tone. For days he'd been tearing himself apart in the room, driven temporarily insane at times by the fact that Voldemort was so close, but so out of reach. Every day he thought it more and more unrealistic to hope for rescue, or a turn of the tables. Now this beast comes to mock him? Even if something in his nature had changed, Harry reminded himself he was still an Englishman, and a damn good wizard. He'd escaped Voldemort several times before. This couldn't be the end of his luck.

Greyback shook his head again, tangled hair shaking, "You overanalyze everything. I didn't bring you here JUST to mock you. Perhaps it was an added amusement, but I'm not so narrow minded, Potter, honestly. You're like a pup the first time it wins a wrestle- think you can take on the world. One victory, perhaps even 4 or 5, doesn't equal you being a hero, or a savior." The gruff man leaned his head back and smirked toothily again, "You've been letting too much of other people's praise sink into your skull there, whelp."

Harry clenched his fists. There came the typical hero's temper again. "Then what, EXACTLY, was you're reason for doing this?"

Greyback let the grin fade and stared at Harry.

"WHAT IS IT!" The teenager shouted.

From across the clearing, leaning against a tree trunk of his own, Greyback stood and rolled back his shoulders, his broad, muscled body cracking the kinks out of his joints. Harry gritted his teeth in annoyance.

"Answer me!"

Greyback leaned his head one way and held a hand up, index finger pointed skyward. Harry looked up, not knowing what he expected. So far, staring up at the dark sky, he saw nothing but lingering clouds.

"Keep watch," Greyback coached, as Harry noticed a lighter spot in the clouds, where a light shone through. The thin, wispy layer of clouds were moving quickly, parting, and leading a movement of clear skies. A white curve appeared around the edge of one such drifter…

"There she is," Harry heard Greyback cooed lovingly, but didn't look his way. His mother's green eyes widened in their sockets. A few seconds before he saw the hints of a full moon, he anticipated what Greyback was getting at. Though he knew he wasn't a werewolf, at least not a real one, a full one, the sight of such a body of light seemed to drown out his senses. In a matter of seconds, he felt dizzy, numb, drunken. Just as he his vision slipped to black, he heard the grunts, growls, and howling of Greyback transforming, and before he felt his legs give in and drop, he felt a large beastly shadow move in front of him, and felt the werewolf's hot breath on his face.

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Yet another triumph of the power of reviewing me and annoying me until I finish a chapter. I know this wasn't the longest, but it wasn't extremely hsort and I felt as if it was well written, as opposed to the last chapter, which was ruhsed, short, and choppy.

The Power of Reviews keeps stories afoot! Thank you for reading and even more so for reviewing!

-Radez (formerly Kruz)


	6. Botched

Dear Readers,

Hey everyone, it's been a while. It's me: Kruz, Rad, now Writer's Fingers (Pen names are a hoot, aren't they?). I know it's like coming back from the dead to resurrect a story after such a long pause, but gosh darn, I'm still getting review alerts for this thing. It's hard to ignore.  But in all honesty, I really do appreciate the time you all have given this and I wanted to reward you with an attempt to continue this little adventure. I know a lot of us are in that "ZOMG HBP MOVIE IN A WEEK!!!" mind set so to celebrate, here is another chapter (after such a long wait) of my story "The Dark Side of the Moon". As per usual, I would love to receive reviews on thoughts and feelings. I don't remember things I had said in author's notes of previous chapters, so please ignore any gibberish that may have overflowed from my mouth. We'll start fresh and new:

~WF

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**The Dark Side of the Moon, Chapter 6:**

Throughout his life Harry had delighted in the safety of sleep. Whether it was full of dreams or simply a quiet, peaceful slumber, the world of the unconscious provided a hiding place from reality. Harry could remember nights as a child, under the Dursley's cupboard, hearing the pounding on the wall from Uncle Vernon and fighting desperately to hold onto his dreams. Rarely was the world outside preferable to what Harry was capable of imagining. Even at Hogwarts, his favorite place in the world, there were dreams of publicly humiliating Draco Malfoy, or kissing Ginny Weasley, or of Snape being deported to Romania that Harry longed to make reality. But Harry had never dreaded the reality of his present more than he did the moment his eyes shot open.

It was not the slow, groggy awakening that had greeted Harry's arrival at the Dark Lord's Manor only days before. Nor was it like the silent, lonely awakening he had received before Greyback had taken him outside: out to the trees, the air, and the moon. The moment his mind began fitting itself into place and charging his body for motion Harry's senses were assaulted with loud noise and irritation. He was immediately instilled with a sense of panic, of action, and of confusion that both paralyzed him and animated him.

His green eyes shot open.

"…Madam Pomfrey?" Harry whispered. He felt the sensation of being carried fireman style in strong, masculine arms, and with his head tilted back over an elbow his blurred eyes could just make out the outline of the Hogwarts nurse, though his mind could hardly believe it.

The nurse did not seem to hear him, and Harry's still dry, uncomprehending thoughts could not bear to repeat the name, as though doing so might take away his hopes of this all being real. With great effort, the young Gryffindor arched his back and struggled to lean up enough to balance his vision. A dark ceiling and corridor swam into focus around him. He was being carried down a cool hallway whose walls reflected the sounds of several pairs of footsteps. From what Harry's ears could make out, most of the steps came from behind him and his carter. As his plain of sight finally became level, the teenager cast his emerald eyes up at the face of the man carrying him. The familiar features registered in Harry's mind: the bushy brown beard with a mop of matted hair to match, the round, pink nose, the ox-like build and giant-like height…

"Hagrid!" It was the strength of Harry's relief that let him shout the name despite his weakness. Above him the larger figure turned its head down, looking into Harry's face with bewildered surprise. Harry couldn't blame him, he himself had been surprised at his sudden revitalization, but how could he help it? A million and ten emotion fought for standing room in the boy's throat. Above him, Hagrid opened his mouth, floundering with half a dozen "uh"s, as though he weren't sure what to say. The large man cast a look over at Madam Pomfrey, but the woman seemed too purpose-driven to answer.

"Through here," Harry heard Pomfrey say, her voice as stern as he remembered. Somewhere near him a door creaked open, but no light could be seen through it. Soon thereafter they entered a room darker than the hall, faintly illuminated by a dozen dimly burning candlesticks bolted to the walls. Harry couldn't remember ever having been in a room of this size or disposition in Hogwarts, except perhaps the potions classroom. His head sinking back into the crook of Hagrid's arm, the young Gryffindor searched what he could make out of the room for any resemblances to the Hospital wing that he knew so well. In the center of one wall he could make out a simple bed with white linens that gave an eerie blue reflection in the darkness. Next to it sat a three legged side-table bearing a lamp, and only a few feet from that a thin countertop covered in the typical vials, ointment jars, and archaic looking books of an infirmary.

"On the bed," Madam Pomfrey ordered, gesturing Hagrid towards the lone bed. Harry felt his head slip from the large man's muscular forearm to the soft surface of a pillow. Above him scores of grey brick wove together to form an arch ceiling of different hues from stone almost white in color to ones that seemed made of charcoal. Harry could feel his exhaustion weighing his limbs down, making it hard to even roll his head from one side to the next. Behind his ears a soft ringing persisted, the kind that came only from one's own head, and as he lay stationary, the boy who lived felt a slowly building fever across his neck and forehead. A sheet was laid over his lower body, and under it the boy's knees buckled in discomfort. Harry's hands gripped fists full of linen, and as suddenly as his relief and joy had come on at the sight of Hagrid and Madam Pomfrey came an internal pain that felt like his blood was being siphoned out and replaced with fire whisky.

A seething breath ground its way through Harry's teeth, announcing his agony to the ears of those around him. With great effort, he kept one eye a crack open and rolled his head to try to see what other faces were gathering around his bed. Despite his pain, Harry's tension lessened at the sight of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's faces near the foot poster. He couldn't help the smile that erupted on his face. "Mr. and Mrs-!"

"Hold him down," Madam Pomrey said in a voice stretched so tightly it almost vibrated. As Harry began to turn his head toward the nurse, attempting to make out what she was doing, he felt Hagrid's thick hands press down on his diaphragm. The pressure sent a jolt of pain through the teenager's body and instinctively he lifted his hands to grab Hagrid's wrists and push the large man away. His efforts were ignored.

There was something distinctly cold in the look Pomfrey had as she pulled a funnel and vial from the countertop. Inside the small glass container and unappetizing purple potion simmered, and the smell it emitted made Harry's throat constrict. "Open wide, Potter," she said as she forced the small tip of the funnel between Harry's lips and poured down the potion.

His lungs forced open by the weight of Hagrid's hands on his chest, Harry could do nothing to stop the progression of the searing hot potion as it flooded his system. His vision blurred as his eyes began to water. When the weight of the half-giant's arms came off his torso, the young Gryffindor turned to his left and coughed violently off the side of the bed.

Everything around the room was gaining momentum and becoming increasingly more confusing to Harry. As he looked up, he saw more people entering the room: Lupin, Ron, and Hermione. His heart soared despite the discomfort of the potion. Knowing Madam Pomfrey it was sure to be for his own good health despite its wretched taste and smell. Now, at the sight of his friends, a bright laugh warmer than anything he'd felt in the last few days escaped Harry's mouth. He started to bring himself up to a sitting position as excitement and relief overcame him. He didn't know where in Hogwarts or otherwise he was, but he knew who he was there with: Ron, Hermione, Lupin, Pomfrey, Hagrid… in one joyous instant he wondered if the experiences he'd shared with the Riddle Manor had even happened at all. Had they all simply been a terrible dream?

"What's wrong with him?" Lupin asked, looking to Pomfrey. "He's laughing."

Hagrid pressed a hand back on Harry's collar, "Lay down, Kid."

"Kid?" Harry asked, looking up at the half-giant. He grinned and playfully shot away the hand from his neck. "C'mon Hagrid-."

"He's obviously having a poor reaction to the venom," said Pomfrey. Harry shot a glance over at her, his eyes curious. He wondered what was so serious, or so important, that it put Pomfrey in such a cold mood. The woman looked positively venomous, her eyes sending a frozen chill down Harry's spine.

The sound of the door creaking open alerted Harry to yet another visitor. "I've informed him," a voice said as a boot passed through the doorway, shortly followed by the full figure of a man. "He'll be here shortly."

Harry's heart had been beating a million miles an hour up to that point, but as his eyes fixed on the man who had walked through the threshold it stopped completely. He hadn't even realized he'd gotten out of bed. He must have been moving fast, because Harry felt the tip of Hagrid's outreaching hand skip the back of his hand as he passed. There was no sound or sense of motion in the Gryffindor's head, for all that Harry was aware of was the ragged looking, dark haired man in the doorway. His scruffy looks and dark eyes were precisely the way Harry remembered them being, and one heart beat that seemed louder than an earthquake pounded in the teenager's head. Even the clothes were the same: that raggedy dark purple suit with its dirty gold tie that had flapped so gently in the air as it fell back through the veil in the Ministry of Magic's Department of Mysteries.

"Sirius!" The name seemed foreign on Harry's lips as he clasped his arms around his godfather's back. The man before his stepped back slightly at the rushed embrace, and when Harry looked up his eyes were as surprised and bewildered looking on the outside as Harry felt on the inside. The teenager stepped back, holding his hands up and placing them on Sirius's shoulders, his voice brimming with laughter as he spoke, his excitement coming out in his rapid questions. "Sirius, what-?... How? How is it you're-? … You're here! What happened? I can't believe it!"

To Harry's surprise, his Godfather did not make a movie to hug him in return. As Harry stared into Sirius's still baffled expression the light and happiness began to slowly drain from his own. Looking pleadingly at the man who had been like a father to him for so long, Harry waited for a reassuring motion, but all that he could sense was a flurry of voices and movement behind him. "Sirius?" He asked again, his voice gathering a tone of desperation. Sirius's face distorted in what looked to Harry like disgust and fear. His godfather took a step back from him. "…Sirius?"

"Has he gone mad?" Mrs. Weasley asked. When Harry turned to face her he couldn't suppress the confusion and horror on his face. Though he saw Mrs. Weasley standing at the foot of the bed he had so recently been in, he had never seen a look of such insanity and malevolence worn on the red headed witch's face the way it was now; nor had he ever thought Mrs. Weasley capable of such a vicious look. One corner of her mouth was pulled down in a sneer and she studied Harry as though he were something diseased and wild.

Harry stumbled backwards in surprise and found that his shoulders hit the surface of the closed door. To his left Sirius had stepped away and now took his position near Mrs. Weasley's shoulder. Both were now giving Harry that same look of abhorrence and puzzlement. "What on Earth is wrong with Potter?" Sirius asked the red headed woman with a poisonous tone.

"Gone batty," she replied.

"Would you _please_ suppress him?" Pomfrey said to Hagrid, her voice full of malice and annoyance. Harry's head was swimming in a sea of failed explanations and lost answers as to what was going on around him. His courage and sanity were just giving out to the point of him collapsing on the door when behind him he felt the push of it being opened by a spell.

Harry stumbled forward and landed in Hagrid's solid grip. "Got'cha!" He heard the groundskeeper say as Harry turned in his grip to see what other confusions and horrors were to come through that door.

"…Dumbledore?" Harry wasn't sure he had actually said the name, for all he felt was the way his lips molded to sound it out. In front of him he saw the old Professor with his light blue robes and long white beard and hair but in his mind's eye Harry could only see images: the astronomy tower, Dumbledore's frail, weak body looking up the tip of Draco's wand, Snape's silhouette in the dark with wand raised… "Dumbledore?" He asked again, and this time he was sure he had said it.

For whatever reason, Hagrid let go of his grip on Harry's arms. Harry felt a dozen eyes on him as he stepped forward, staring with desperate confusion at the blue eyes behind Dumbledore's half-moon spectacles. They were so cool, so calculating, and they were the only eyes in the room that seemed capable of masking their surprise… or perhaps Dumbledore wasn't surprised at anything before him. Perhaps, as always, he was the only one who knew what was going on.

Harry reached a hand out tentatively but saw that Dumbledore's eyes never left their cold stare at his own green ones. His hand shaking, Harry stepped slowly forward until he felt the texture of cotton at his finger tips. His green eyes were captivated in Dumbledore's blue ones, and he felt helpless below such a knowing stare. His mind was crammed with a hundred dozen buzzing questions and concerns. His pupils shook in panic. Dumbledore's did not. They never had.

"…I'm dead," Harry whispered as his arm dropped and his eyes began to roll back. He felt his body go numb and his knees give from under him. The cold stone floor met his right cheek and Harry's vision flickered in and out as someone began to lift him up from under his arms and drag him backwards. Harry could hear nothing over the deafening sound of his own heart beats in his ear. He felt nothing as he was thrown back on the bed and lay staring blanking upward, catching glimpses of the faces gathered around the bed as they leaned in to stare into his vacant face.

"Was that your potion?" Mr. Weasley asked of Pomfrey.

"Possibly. I'm not sure," the nurse replied.

"Not sure?" Hagrid nearly shouted, "For God's sakes Severus!"

_Severus_? Harry thought. His heart beats quickened.

"I don't believe you are in any position to be questioning my potion concocting skills," Madam Pomfrey snapped back.

"Well if you kill the kid-!"

"Let him work, Fenrir," Mrs. Weasley cackled, her eyes lighted with madness.

"Yes Fenrir, step aside." Harry wasn't able to tell who had uttered those words until Dumbledore parted the figure of the half-giant gamekeeper from Harry's bedside with the motion of one hand. Harry could see his chest beginning to heave and heard his pained breathing loud and audible to those around him. A thin frame of red began to coat his vision. Desperately he turned his head to the side toward his headmaster. Dumbledore's eyes were on him now, but Harry had never seen them so cold and void. He studied the suffering teenager with a look of educated curiosity and detached amusement. There was some part of the look that seemed fond, except it lacked any sort of care or compassion, and Harry could not quite figure out why such a look seemed as sickening to him as it did.

To Harry's right Pomfrey was fixing a syringe and holding it to the artery of his right elbow. Dumbledore's wand gave a swift flick through the air and Harry felt his arms lock into his sides as the needle slipped under his skin. He hardly felt the insertion, but as soon as the liquid from within the needle began to push its way into Harry's veins a growing pain began to collect near his heart. He choked on a whimper, and by the way that those around him turned their heads down towards Harry's face, they had heard it. Perhaps it was the inherent bravery and stubbornness of being a Gryffindor for six years, or perhaps it was just Harry's nature itself, but the teenager resolved to bite back his pain as much as he could bear. He turned his face from Dumbledore and closed his eyes, his jaw clenching tightly and his chest beginning to convulse. His diaphragm jumped, and Harry felt the scream building in his throat. He arched his back in an attempt to escape some of the pain, but found that the burning in his veins could not to be avoided so easily. His whole circulatory system was aflame, and the fires were only growing stronger. When Harry opened his eyes again and looked around at the face of his friends he was horrified to see his vision skewing, blurring, and fading. Panic overtook him; the panic of what he knew was coming. These faces, these mirages, were disappearing, and behind them lurked the horror of his reality.

"That should stunt his obvious hallucinations," said a voice from where Madam Pomfrey had stood. The voice, however, was not that of the Hogwarts nurse but that of its potions master; whose greasy black hair and pasty white complexion was slowly taking form before Harry. Desperate to hold the illusions of his friends, the teenager looked to the foot of his bed, as though by pure will he could prevent them from fading. Nevertheless, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley became Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange, Lupin became Rookwood, and Sirius's matted black hair became the straight, pale locks of Lucious Malfoy.

Another choke.

To Harry's left Hagrid's friendly face became the grizzled maw of Fenrir Greyback: notorious murderer, kidnapper, and vicious werewolf. To Harry's surprise, his was the only face that showed any hint of sympathy or concern for the teenager's pain. The pepper and salt hair and facial stubble of the aging werewolf brought back memories of Harry's last conscious moments. Suddenly the Gryffindor boy recalled Greyback pulling him from his prison room, taking him out into fresh air against Voldemort's orders, and preaching about "fellowship". The vision of the full moon swam in front of Harry's eyes and they widened.

Then, finally, there was Dumbledore. Try as Harry might, the power of will behind his eyes could not stop the fleeing of that comforting face, and to the boy's utter horror it was maroon eyes, white skin, and a reptilian, disfigured face that Dumbledore gave way it. Now that cold, calculating stare looked familiar; now it had found its place.

_No_, Harry thought in panic as Voldemort's hideous face came into focus above him. The Dark Lord was so close… _No, no, no, no, no_…

Harry suspended himself off his back, his eyes clenching closed and his throat emitting a suppressed, agonized seething. Despite his best effort, it was only moment before the screams found their way out. In some way, screaming seemed to relieve the pain of Snape's potion, and Harry found that he lost all sense of time and place until the moment came that the pain subsided and he was able to lay there in bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling of a dead silent room with his arms dangling lifelessly over the sides of the bed.

"…Severus," Voldemort began in an interrogative manner, "Would you care to explain to me what this has all been about?"

Harry could see Snape's body buckle through his peripherals. "My Lord," he said evenly, "I do not entirely know myself. Fenrir sent Nott and Rookwood for me fifteen minutes ago saying Potter was having some sort of fit; a reaction. When I arrived the room you have him confined to he was unconscious and feverish."

The Dark Lord began to slowly circle around Harry's bed as his death eaters drew towards the outskirts of the room to watch their master's movement. As he walked, Voldemort drug one of his cold, bony hands across the surface of the bed and Harry found himself silently praying that the hand not come near him.

"I'm curious, then," the snake like man went one, "As to what caused this… reaction?"

Snape paused to think. Harry felt the potions master looking off into the corner, perhaps at someone but Harry couldn't see who, before he turned back to Voldemort to answer. When he did, his voice was vague and disconcerting. "…I believe it is merely a symptom of Greyback's bite…my Lord."

"Greyback's bite?" Voldemort asked. Harry could hear the rustling of the Dark Lord's robes as he turned to face the graying werewolf, who was one of the only death eaters tall and broad enough that Harry could see from his prone position on the bed. Greyback looked unhappy. "Fenrir," Voldemort said, his voice too friendly to be harmless. "Can you explain?"

"I have nothing to explain," Fenrir replied curtly. He crossed his arms and coughed into a fist, then looked at Voldemort with a slightly bored expression. Harry could see one of the death eaters next to him fidget and throw and elbow out to nudge the werewolf's side. At first Greyback looked incredulously over at the other man, but then seemed to derive some signal from the motion and coughed once more. "My Lord," he added.

It seemed to take a great deal of the Dark Lord's patience not to react to the werewolf's blunder. Still, the "crucio" that Harry was expecting never came, and so Voldemort continued. "Then you can tell me nothing that has changed in the past few hours…few days to cause this reaction?"

"Uh…yes, in fact, my Lord," Greyback began, straightening his posture. "He did become a werewolf."

"HALF-werewolf," Snape corrected.

"That's the one," Fenrir sniffed and looked past Voldemort at Harry's bed but the Gryffindor didn't return the glance.

"He was not visited by anyone?" Voldemort's voice seemed to be losing patience at an alarming rate, "He was not given anything? He did not leave that room?"

Harry wondered if Greyback was as skilled in warding off Voldemort's mind evasions as Snape was. He doubted it. Despite, though, Greyback's voice was professional and believable when he looked at the Dark Lord and said, "Master, nothing has entered or exited that room aside from a dinner plate."

Voldemort seemed to study Fenrir for a long moment before continuing. "Is this sort of a reaction typical _several days after a werewolf bite_?" It was more a skeptical accusation than anything else.

"Perhaps, I don't really know," Greyback glanced over at the bed once more, "Potter's not really the usual case. sort of a botched job on my part."

"Fine then..." Harry's chest constricted as Voldemort came into his sight once more. The Dark Lord was leaning slightly over the bed, scrutinizing the Gryffindor's weak body with disdain placing a few cold fingers on the purple bruise of Harry's neck where Greyback had bitted him. "...you will complete the transformation when Potter's strength returns. 'botched jobs' and incomplete projects are simply not my taste. I've had too many of them already." The fingers moved from Harry's neck and relocated on the lightning bolt scar adorning his forehead. At the touch Harry hissed, intaking breath, and his chest contorted. A thin, lipless smile grew on the Dark Lord's face. "Leaving things unfinished breeds doubt, and doubt breeds defiance. You have enough of that already, Harry, don't you think?"

-To Be Continued...


End file.
